


His Hands on My Skin

by Winchester_with_Wings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort fic, F/M, Fluff, Sexy, Sunburn, Sweet, prompt, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 07:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: Summary/Request:   Got anything for a Winchester or Barry treating bad sunburn?





	His Hands on My Skin

Dean watches from the doorway as you open the bottle of lotion and rub the soothing cream onto your shoulders.

“I told you that you should wear sunscreen,” he taunts you. Parts of your skin are as red as a cooked lobster, except you’re definitely not evenly cooked.

“I did!” you defend yourself, turning to sneer at the older Winchester. He just laughs at you as you try to reach your baked shoulder blades. “You weren’t around to help me apply it. So it’s really your fault.”

“Oh really?” He walks into the room, closing the door behind him as you pull your shirt over your head and hold it to your chest.

“Yeah. So you can make it up to me by applying this aloe lotion to my back.”

“I mean…if it’s the least I can do,” he shrugs. You lay on the bed, on your tummy, your entire back exposed to him. He drips some of the lotion on your hot skin and then you hear the distinct snap of the lid closing. The bed creaks as Dean clambers onto the bed. The denim of his jeans is rough on your skin as he straddles your lower back. “Why is there no tan line?” he questions you as he startles rubbing the lotion into your skin. The cooling effect starts right away and you moan with relief. “Were you even wearing a top?”

You had left the bunker to go lay out in the sun on a blanket and read a book. Whether or not you kept your shirt one would remain a mystery to him. In reality, you had just been wearing a halter top with an exposed back.

“Now you’re really wishing you were there, huh?” you tease Dean.

“Maybe. But it’s not like rubbing lotion on you in your bedroom is a losing situation.” Dean’s shrug can be felt in the shifting pressure of his hands. “We should do this more often,” he comments in a soft murmur.

“What? Get sunburned?”

“No. I mean you and mean and the lotion…or oil…and a massage.” He must get distracted by the mental image because moments later he puts too much pressure into one of his hands on your sunburn.

“Ow! ow-ow-oww! Geez, Winchester! You might as well smack my back if you’re trying to hurt me!” You roll over, holding your shirt to your chest. Dean loses his balance and lays on top of you. You hope the lotion has been rubbed in thoroughly so you don’t have to do laundry.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he says, both concerned but also with a sparkle of humor in his eyes as he looks you up and down. Typical. Dean Winchester isn’t well acquainted with sunburns. He just tans and breeds freckles on his shoulders like it’s his day job.

“It’s not really a massage when my skin is burning hot!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I thought you were just enjoying yourself. Your cheeks were red. I thought you were enjoying it.”

“These pink cheeks means something completely different, you dork.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean snorts. Even laying on top of you, face to face, chest to chest with only thin pieces of fabric between your bodies, Dean rubs the tops of your shoulders and starts to slide his hands down your arms. He holds your gaze the entire time, no longer looking for sunburns as he rubs the remaining lotion on his hands into your skin. His hands drift from your arms to your waist. His thumb dips under your waist band.

“Hey, hey, handsy! I’m not sunburned down there.”

“I should check though. Just to be sure.” He chuckles as he allows your to push him off and roll over to the side. He props his head up on his hand. “Does your skin feel any better?”

“Yeah,” you smile sweetly, enjoying the cooling sensation. “Much better. Thank you, Dean.”

“Well it is the least I could do. Next time I’ll be there. I promise. You’ll read to me while I rub your back. No more sunburns for you. Only good massages from now on. Deal?”

“That sounds like the perfect afternoon, Dean. Thank you.” You roll over and lean into his body. You kiss him on his pursed lips; the man had been expecting your kiss. He gave you a second one when the first one wasn’t long enough.

“Love you, Babe,” he says as he smirks. He kisses you again and gently pulls your shirt away from your body until you’re exposed to the man. A goddess laid out for Dean Winchester to worship.


End file.
